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Thursday, February 20, 2014

I thought by now I would be well on my way to feeling "whole", or as "whole" as I can. For me, being "whole" means that I have the three children I have always dreamed of having even if one is in Heaven.

But now, I am left with not one hole, but two. My husband does not want another child as he is content with the two he has. I won't speak for him as to his reasons but the impact of me respecting his choice is tumultuous. It means I give up my dream of having three children, a dream that was manifested when I was very young.

I will admit that had our two children BOTH been healthy, his decision not to want another would have been easier to bare. He has always wanted two but I always figured we would cross that bridge when we got there.

We're here now.

So now I am forced into my own reality which is not what was in "my plan" at all. I communicated my desire, no my need as a Mother, for three children before we married but the tides changed on us. We were betrayed by Mother Nature and God's saving grace in regards to Trey. But mostly we were scarred and that effects us both differently though our grief is very much the same.

So the first hole in my life, Trey, is now joined by the hole left by the child that is being denied me. Now I grieve for two children, two holes that have doubled the odds against me that I will be whole again.

Loved ones are perplexed, saying, "How does he have the right to make that decision for both of you?" to which I agree but I am not willing to lose him over this. I also believe in Divine Intervention which takes control over everything.

I am not sure if I am doing myself a disservice by accepting my fate or I am standing by my man, a Daddy who has been through more than ANY Daddy should go through. I do know that it breaks my already shattered heart not to have my dream of the family I have always wanted dissolved, the tragedy magnified. I feel like the wounds, glazed over by our miracle Rainbow Baby, cracking through the surface, opened scars oozing disappointment and heartache.

What I do know is that, as only Baby Loss Parents have told me, the grief has not lessened, it has only changed.

Now, I grieve for the experiences I did not have with Trey but got to experience with Lorelei thinking I would be able to have them with another child. These experiences don't replace him, but the mere idea of having them with two of his siblings softens the blow of not having them with him.

Lorelei brings us quite an adventure of parenthood which teaches us more than they teach her and I SO wanted to experience that with the third child I have always dreamed of.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

I know you think that I shouldn't still love you,
Or tell you that.
But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it
where's the sense in that?

I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder
Or return to where we were

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

I know I left too much mess and
destruction to come back again
And I caused nothing but trouble
I understand if you can't talk to me again
And if you live by the rules of "it's over"
then I'm sure that that makes sense

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

And when we meet
Which I'm sure we will
All that was there
Will be there still
I'll let it pass
And hold my tongue
And you will think
That I've moved on....

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

I heard this song today that I have always loved but I made a different connection to it. This song now reminds me of the difficult decisions both my husband and I had to make and continue to make, together or separately, in regards to our son Trey and his passing. I am so grateful for my husband for holding me up in my darkest hours and being my soft place to land.

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who has seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Much like in the days following the loss of our son, I find my self in month three of sitting at home mourning something I lost and wondering when everything will be ok again.

I have never lost a job, not in my 21 years in the work force. But due to one boss's opinion of me after 13 years at the same job, 12 of which were met with rave reviews, I find myself hoping for another boss to take a chance on me so that I can prove that one bad egg shouldn't make one's career go out with the rest of the dozen of eggs.

I lost Trey.
I lost faith.
I lost hope.
I lost myself.
I lost my full heart.
I lost a future with my son.
I lost my husband's namesake.
I lost my new mother status.
I lost my maternity leave.
I lost milestones.
I lost ballgames.
I lost his first day of school.
I lost his prom.
I lost John teaching him how to shave.
I lost my self esteem.
I lost my pride.
I lost my trust in myself.
I lost my first born.
I lost my dignity.
I lost my dream family.
I lost my innocence.
I lost my belief in anything holy.
I lost my tears.
I lost raising him.
I lost his first love.
I lost grandchildren.
I lost John Thomas IV.
I lost rocket building lessons.
I lost "the talk".
I lost the purpose of his nursery.
I lost a potential daughter-in-law.
I lost the joy of his birth.
I lost so much more.